RAGE: President & First Lady Of The Death Dealers MC

by Alana Sapphire

  “Search the place,” I tell Tek and Motor.

  Briggs watches quietly as I pull up a chair and sit in front of him. “Do you know who I am?”

  He takes a good look at me, but I don’t see recognition in his eyes.

  “I have no idea,” he answers, spitting blood on the floor.

  “Doesn’t matter. Dutch Wife… that’s your product, right?”

  “Aah.” He smiles, licking his busted lip. “My pride and joy. Took me years to perfect that one. If you’re looking for a distribution deal, this isn’t the way I do business.”

  “Not looking to do business, asshole. I need information.”

  “Why would I tell you anything?”

  I pull my knife from the holster on my ankle and inspect the blade. I’m dying to see his blood dripping from it. “Oh, I can be very persuasive.”

  “I don’t even know you. What kind of information can I possibly give you?”

  “Stony View,” I say. “Who distributes for you around there?”

  “Never heard of it. I don’t do small towns,” he regards me with a sneer. “Small money.”

  “Okay. Who distributes for you in Atlanta?”

  He doesn’t answer, just stares at me like he’s bored or I’m an inconvenience. I lean in and show him the blade of my knife. “Notice anything about it?”

  “It’s a knife.” He shrugs.

  “Not big or sharp. No good for cutting, slicing… but does a hell of a job when I need to poke holes into things… people.”

  He swallows hard but doesn’t make a sound. That is until I sink the blade into his thigh with all the strength I can muster. He squeals like the pig he is. “Feel like talking yet?” I ask as I twist the blade.

  “Motherfucker!” he shouts.

  “No?” I pull the knife out and slam it into his other thigh. He howls in pain but still says nothing. No problem. I can do this all night. I stand and show him my knuckles. “What does that say?”

  “Raven?”

  “Yeah. Raven.” His head snaps back at the first punch. By the third, I feel a few of his teeth give way. I stop counting after ten.

  “Boss, found this.” I turn to Tek, breathing heavily, and watch as he approaches with a black briefcase.

  “Can you open it?”

  He inspects it then gives me a maniacal grin. “Sure. All I need is a thumbprint.”

  “I like the way you think, Tek,” I reply, knowing exactly where he’s going with this.

  “May I?” Razor inquires.

  “Go ahead.” I gesture to Briggs.

  Razor cuts the cable tie from one of Briggs’ hands and removes a pruning shear from his pocket. Briggs begins to squirm. I guess he can still see. For now.

  “No. You can’t—”

  His index finger is gone before he can finish his objection. He screams like a bitch this time. He’s crying now, tears running down his face.

  “Oops. You said thumb, right?”

  I chuckle at the expression on Razor’s face. Fucker enjoys this kind of thing.

  “Move out of the way.” Venom steps up. “You play too much.”

  He grabs the shears and I revel in the sound of metal cutting through bone. Seems the men want to have some fun because Venom took the tip of Briggs’ middle finger, from the first joint up. It’s a little cathartic listening to his screams. Raven screamed and no one helped her.

  Allah steps forward next and Venom hands him the shears. He actually removes the thumb then gives Tek a confused look.

  “Did you want the left or the right?” he asks.

  “Which one did you get?”

  “Left.”

  “I need the right then,” Tek replies with a grin.

  Crow moves toward Briggs and pulls out his knife. It’s nothing like mine. That shit has a nine-and-a-half inch, partially serrated blade. He keeps it sharp, too. Briggs can’t keep his head steady. The smell of blood fills my nostrils and it smells a lot like retribution. Crow drags a table over to Briggs and cuts his other hand loose, splaying his fingers on it. One clean slice and his thumb is gone. Briggs barely makes a sound.

  Tek opens the briefcase, pulls out a laptop, and then starts rifling through the papers in it.

  “Why… why are you doing this?” Briggs asks, his voice barely audible.

  I stand and stare down at this pathetic excuse of a human being, now as helpless as the victims of his drug. “What were you thinking when you created Dutch Wife, huh? What? No woman could stand to be with a bitch like you, so you decided to take their choice away?”

  His head lolls back. He’s losing a lot of blood and may not be conscious much longer. I need to get something out of him fast.

  “Who’s your distributor?”

  “Prez,” Tek calls out to me. “Found something.” He shows me a document. “It’s where the truck was headed. Address in ATL.”

  “Well,” I say to Briggs. “Looks like I don’t need you anymore.” I jerk my head at Allah and Crow. “Torch it.” There’s no way I’m leaving this place standing.

  “Please,” he begs. “I’ll pay you… whatever you want.”

  I pull out my Glock and aim it at his head. “I don’t want your money.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Me?” I ask, right before I pull the trigger. “I’m the Grim Reaper, motherfucker.”

  CHAPTER 8

  ***Gage***

  My heart leaps into my throat when I walk into the bar and see her sitting on the couch with the prospects. Why? One, she’s out of the bedroom; two, she’s smiling. It’s been way too long since I saw her gorgeous smile. It grows even wider when she sees me.

  “Gage!” she shouts in excitement.

  She jumps to her feet and potato chips go flying everywhere. She almost trips trying to get to me but I catch her, wrapping an arm around her waist. When she looks up at me, she can barely keep her eyes open. They’re bloodshot and she stinks of reefer. That explains all the junk food scattered on the table. My baby has the munchies.

  “You’ve been smoking?”

  “I may have had a joint… or two… or three.” She covers her mouth and giggles.

  I glare at Ron and he has the sense to look sorry. “You gave her weed?”

  “Don’t… don’t blame him,” she says, petting my chest. “He didn’t force me. I just needed to… get away.”

  Fuck. She’s worse than I thought if she thinks she needs drugs to cope. I take her hand and lead her to my room. She flings herself onto the bed, turning over to watch me while I undress down to my boxers. Her eyes follow my every movement, but she says nothing. There’s a knock at the door and I know it’s Crow come to collect my clothes for disposal. I bring them to him and turn back around to see her still staring.

  “See something you like?”

  “You’re hot.”

  I chuckle and shake my head. “That’s the weed talking.”

  “No, it’s not.” She slinks off the bed and stands before me.

  I watch with interest as she traces the tattoo on my sternum with her index finger. My body becomes alert at her soft touch. I know I should stop her, but I don’t. Maybe I’m selfish, but I miss her. I miss her hands on me. If I can have her back for even a few minutes, I’ll take it.

  She flattens her palms and slowly slides them down my chest, my stomach. Resting her hands on my hips, she peeks up at me.

  “Kiss me, Gage.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to control myself as her arms go around my waist.

  “Please. I need to see… to feel something.”

  She stares up at me with beseeching eyes, and I just can’t turn her down. I cradle her face in my hands, brushing her cheek with my thumb. As I lean in, she closes her eyes. My lips touch hers and I hear a moan. At first, I think it’s her, then I realize it’s me. My body’s response to her is immediate. Jesus.

  I take it slow, gently moving my lips against hers. She steps closer, urging me to be more forceful, but I keep myself in check. I
lick her bottom lip. She opens for me the way she usually does, and I slip my tongue inside. As I tease her tongue with mine, she grabs my hand and places it on her breast. This time, I know it’s me groaning. I find her nipple through her shirt and circle it with my thumb. Trailing my other hand down her body, I grab her ass, and pull her to me. Everything in me is screaming at me to stop. I know she’s nowhere near ready, physically or emotionally. I know it’s the high she’s on, but I want her to feel how hard I am for her. She pulls back and I instantly think I’ve scared her off, done too much too soon, but she just stares at me with dead eyes.

  “Nothing,” she whispers distractedly. “Still nothing.”

  I release her and raise a questioning brow. “Babe?”

  She grabs the front of her shirt, brings it to her nose, and sniffs it. “I stink. I’m gonna take a shower.”

  I watch in confusion as she walks to the bathroom. What the fuck just happened? That must have been some strong weed. I sit on the bed with my head in my hands as I think about the events of the night. I know it’s a long shot trying to trace the drug from the source, but it’s one I have to take. Somebody, somewhere along the line must have heard something. Once we find the distributor in ATL, I’m hoping we can shorten the list of suspects. There aren’t a lot of dealers around here, and it’s not a common drug.

  She walks out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her hair and another around her body. My still-hard dick throbs at the sight of her. I grab fresh boxers and head to the shower, leaving her to get dressed. As I stand under the water, I look down at my dick, wondering if I should rub one out. Shit. I haven’t choked the chicken since… I don’t know when.

  I shower quickly and climb into bed next to her. She rolls over to face me, and I curl my arm around her.

  “Gage?” She stares up at me with wide eyes.

  “Hmm?”

  “Do you still like me?”

  “Of course I do,” I answer without hesitation. “You’re my baby doll.”

  She places her hand on my jaw and gives me a weak smile. “I still like you, too. I promise.”

  “That’s it? You’re not going to tell me I’m your monster-dick papi chulo?”

  She throws her head back and laughs, and I have to take a moment to watch her. I haven’t heard it in so long I almost forgot what it was like. Her body shakes against me as it flows through her. I’m the reason it disappeared, and I feel a small victory for bringing it back. I pull her closer as she brings her gaze back to mine.

  “Sí,” she whispers. “Eres mi papi chulo con una grandísima verga.”

  “Good.” I kiss her forehead. “Go to sleep, doll.”

  ***

  A scream drags me out of slumber. I turn on the lamp only to see Raven thrashing next to me, fighting off someone who’s not there. Fuck.

  I straddle her, grabbing her arms. “Raven, wake up!”

  Her eyes snap open, but they may as well have been closed because the only thing I see is fear. She struggles against my hold, breathing heavily, and screaming for me to let her go.

  “Raven.” I give her a little shake. “It’s me… Gage.”

  E comes rushing into the room, a few of the guys close on his heels. “What’s going on?”

  “She’s having a nightmare. Won’t snap out of it.”

  He hurries over, snapping his fingers in front of her eyes. She doesn’t respond. Whatever’s happening to her in this dream, she’s begging for it to stop. I know she’s dreaming about the rape and just like I couldn’t help her then, I can’t help her now. I didn’t even see E move but he’s back now with a needle. He sticks it into her arm and after a few seconds, she calms down. She goes still and her eyes flutter closed. I comb my fingers through my hair and drop down next to her.

  How the fuck do I fix this?

  How do I fix her?

  ***Raven***

  I wake up to Gage sitting in a chair by the bed, just watching me. Yawning, I rub the sleep from my eyes. I feel so rested. Better than I’ve felt in a long time. Parts of last night start coming back to me. Me and the prospects, all that weed… no wonder I was knocked out. But then, I remember the dream. It was clearer this time. I saw my room, the rope that kept me bound to my bed. I saw him. He was standing by my door, holding a knife, his face hidden by a ski mask. I saw myself struggling as he moved toward me menacingly.

  I jump out of bed and rush to my artist’s table.

  “Babe?”

  I ignore Gage as I grab a pencil and begin to sketch the images from my dream. I feel him standing over me but I’m not aware of anything else, just my pencil moving over the paper. When I’m done, I drop the pencil and bring my trembling fingers to my lips. There it is, in black and white. There’s no denying it now. Now, it feels real. This man broke into my house, violated, tortured, and brutalized me. He took something from me that I can never get back, something that was not his to take. And it makes me mad. It pisses me the fuck off.

  I spring to my feet, grab the side of the table and fling it to the floor. Gage reaches for me but I march to his punching bag, needing to release some of this anger bubbling inside me. As soon as I throw a punch, he grabs me and wraps his arms around me so he’s keeping mine at my sides.

  “You’ll mess up your shoulder.”

  “I don’t care!” I scream. “Let me go!”

  “Calm down.”

  I struggle against him but he’s too strong. I’m helpless, just like I was that night. I start sobbing and go lax in his arms. He slides down to the floor along with me and holds me while I cry.

  Why? Why did this have to happen to me? Is God punishing me? What did I do to deserve this?

  Gage whispers in my ear that he’ll make it right, that he’s doing everything he can to find the people responsible. I hope he does. No, I know he will. When he does, I want him to handle it. I want him to make the motherfucker suffer. Fuck letting the police handle it.

  I turn to face him and look him in the eyes so he knows I’m serious.

  “Find him, Gage. You find him and you hurt him the way he hurt me. Find him and kill him.”

  He nods, taking my face in his hands. “Even if I’d never killed anyone before, that fucker is a dead man. For you, Raven, I’d pick a motherfucker up and drop him on the sun.”

  I climb up and straddle him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. His are reassuring as they tighten around me.

  “It was so real,” I whisper into his neck.

  “I got you, Raven. I got you.”

  “I know.” I pull back and stare into his eyes. “You’re a good man, Gage. Don’t let anyone tell you any different.”

  I leave him there and head to the bathroom. When I return, he’s sitting on the bed, studying the picture I drew. He curls his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side as I sit next to him.

  “Why were you watching me sleep?”

  “Your nightmare. You were screaming, fighting… wouldn’t wake up. E had to give you something to calm you down.”

  “How long were you watching me? Did you even get any sleep?”

  “Some.” He kisses my forehead and moves to the closet. “Don’t worry about me.”

  Easier said than done. How can I not worry? He hasn’t been sleeping much already, and now I’m fighting him in my sleep. Great. I notice he’s pulling out all black clothes again, so I know he’s heading out on another mission.

  “What happened last night?” I ask him.

  He gives me that look of his that’s supposed to tell me he can’t say anything, but I’m not having it today. “This isn’t club business. This is about me, so you can tell me. What happened last night?”

  He sighs and shakes his head in resignation. “Fine, but the only thing I’m telling you is that we found the guy responsible for the drug that was used on you.”

  “And?”

  “And he won’t be a problem for anyone anymore.”

  Good. It’s good, right? I mean, at least we’re gettin
g somewhere now. Plus, he’s saved countless other women who would have gone through what I did. Now, I need to know what the next step is.

  “And today?”

  “Today, I’m heading to Atlanta. I’ll be gone all day, so maybe you should call Chrissy. She misses you.”

  “I miss her, too, but why are you going to Atlanta?”

  “Following a lead.” He grabs the black duffel bag again and it makes me curious as to exactly what is in it. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow.”

  “Take me with you.”

  “What? No, I’m not taking you with me.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” he says. “I need you here where I know you’re safe. What we’re doing is dangerous. It’s no place for you.”

  “But—”

  “No ‘buts’,” he states with finality. “You’re staying here.”

  “Fine.” I roll my eyes and reach for the phone he bought me. This is the first time I’m even looking at it. I turn it on and within seconds, notifications start coming in. I go to the contacts and see he’s programmed in a few numbers—Chrissy, Ellen, himself, Laurelyn, Nita, Ron, and Toni. I send a text to Chrissy asking her to come over, and another to Toni saying I’ll call later.

  “You good?”

  “Yeah,” I answer as I read Chrissy’s reply. “Chrissy’s on her way.”

  He crouches in front of me and takes my hand, his expression worrisome. “Raven, I think it’s time to give the therapist a call. You need to talk to someone who can help you work through your emotions.”

  “Okay.” I nod.

  “I’ll have E make the call.”

  He kisses my forehead, grabs his bag, and heads for the door. I decide to follow him out because I’ve been cooped up in this room for far too long. The bar is like a beehive. I’ve never seen so many people in here before, and they’re all moving around with purpose. The guys are getting ready to leave, but the Hounds look busy, too.